


The Council of Elrond feat. the Haradrim

by taninokitsune



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Extra credit assignment, Gen, Haradrim at the council of Elrond, an absolute mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taninokitsune/pseuds/taninokitsune
Summary: As part of an extra credit assignment for a English class on Tolkien I was required to write 'fanfiction' correcting an issue in the Lord of the Rings. I chose to look at the Haradrim and the Council of Elrond.This is probably terrible but if people like it I might continue with it.For Professor Huber.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The Council of Elrond feat. the Haradrim

**Author's Note:**

> As part of an extra credit assignment for a English class on Tolkien I was required to write 'fanfiction' correcting an issue in the Lord of the Rings. I chose to look at the Haradrim and the Council of Elrond.
> 
> This is probably terrible but if people like it I might continue with it.
> 
> For Professor Huber.

Harhaan arrived in the outdoor council chamber with Naqayd close on her heels. She could feel the eyes of the men in the room staring intently at her. The man of Gondor glared at Harhaan sneering towards the two of them. The small, childlike beings she saw last night had not arrived yet and neither had Ghusa-Yazaam. “A’mar Harhaan, where are we sitting? And what am I required to scribe?”

Naqayd whispered his questioned while glancing around nervously. Harhaan turned towards Elrond, “A’mar Elrond, where shall the two of us take our seats?”

Her voice rang out in a deep rich tone.

Elrond pointed to the two free chairs separating the elves and the dwarves. The two Haradrim placed their right fists above their hearts and bowed their heads in thanks. To be truthful, Harhaan did not care about where she and Naqayd sat, as long as it was away from the Gondorian. She scrunched her nose in disgust thinking about the judgmental air coming off him. He was likely one of them; the people who believed the Haradrim to be barbarians who worshiped the Dark One, Sauron.

Harhaan snorted, not every tribe was the same and many of her kinsmen fought against the Dark One is the days before the sun. Only the Ri'sakhar and Tarvakvadni tribes to the north still worshiped Sauron and his evil machinations. How dare this Gondorian assume she was the same as the northern tribes, she was the leader of the Ravistavir and the only deities they worshiped was Inhusomru and Sarvodhaal; the goddess of green and the Lord of Waters, Yavanna and Ulmo in the Westron tongue.

Harhaan did not judge the Gondorian men and their Númenórean ancestors based on what the Black Númenóreans did to her people after all. The heinous actions that cut the tribes in half by sinking their fertile land and cursing the green fields to turn into a desert.

The slight chattering that filled the room slowly died down to nothing as the two half-folk and Ghusa-Yazaam entered the circle. The atmosphere turned tense and Harhaan knew it was because of the bad news each faction had received. The Dark One was gathering his forces and Harhaan had heard rumors that the nine yhoite had been sighted again.

Harhaan turned towards Naqayd and whispered in their native tongue, “Do not bother to start the scroll here, simply listen and observe. If you notice anything peculiar report it back to me.”

Naqayd nodded slightly. Harhaan turned her head back towards the half-folk who took seats on the other side of the elves, closest to Elrond.

~~~~~~

Gandalf led them to the porch where Frodo had found his friends the evening before. The light of the clear autumn morning was now glowing in the valley. The noise of bubbling waters came up from the foaming riverbed. Birds were singing, and a wholesome peace lay on the land. To Frodo his dangerous flight, and the rumors of the darkness growing in the world outside, already seemed only the memories of a troubled dream; but the faces that were turned to meet them as they entered were grave.

Elrond was there, and several others were seated in silence about him. Frodo saw Glorfindel and Glóin; and in a corner alone Strider was sitting, clad in his old travel-worn clothes again. Elrond drew Frodo to a seat by his side, and presented him to the company, saying:

"Here, my friends is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come hither through greater peril or on an errand more urgent."

He then pointed out and named those whom Frodo had not met before. There was a younger dwarf at Glóin's side: his son Gimli. Beside Glorfindel there were several other counselors of Elrond's household, of whom Erestor was the chief; and with him was Galdor, an Elf from the Grey Havens who had come on an errand from Círdan the Shipwright. There was also a strange Elf clad in green and brown, Legolas, a messenger from his father, Thranduil, the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood.

Elrond then gestured at the man and women seated between the elves and dwarves. The two had turned back to face Elrond from where they had been talking quietly. They both wore red silks with gold accents. The woman sat proudly with her shoulders pushed back. Her skin was slightly darker than her counterparts; far darker than anyone Frodo had met before. With brown eyes, black hair and a proud face she looked like a powerful leader. But there was something in the way she held herself, the way she ensured her friend was safe, that suggested a kindness to her.

And seated a little apart was a tall man with a fair and noble face, dark-haired and grey-eyed, proud and stern of glance.

He was cloaked and booted as if for a journey on horseback; and indeed, though his garments were rich, and his cloak was lined with fur, they were stained with long travel. He had a collar of silver in which a single white stone was set; his locks were shorn about his shoulders. On a baldric, he wore a great horn tipped with silver that now was laid upon his knees. He gazed at Frodo and Bilbo with sudden wonder.

"Here," said Elrond, turning to Gandalf, "is Boromir, a man from the South. He arrived in the grey morning and seeks counsel. I have bidden him to be present, for here his questions will be answered."

Not all that was spoken and debated in the Council need now be told. Much was said of events in the world outside, especially in the South, and in the wide lands east of the Mountains. Of these things, Frodo had already heard many rumors, but the tale of Glóin was new to him, and when the dwarf spoke he listened attentively. It appeared that amid the splendor of their works of hand the hearts of the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain were troubled.

Glóin stood and began his tale.

~~~~~~

Frodo was exhausted. The council had been long and stressful, especially after he volunteered to take the One Ring to Mordor in order to destroy it. Part of him wished he hadn’t volunteered to carry the burden of the ring further than Rivendell. Sam had started to fret over him, thinking about what they needed to pack. As much as Frodo cared for Sam, he needed a break from the constant worrying Sam was prone to.

He ended up in one of the gardens in Rivendell. The gardens themselves were beautiful, filled with flowers of all kinds and gorgeous green trees. This one, in particular, had a small waterfall that Frodo liked to sit beside and read when he could.

However, today another person sat in Frodo’s favorite spot. The lad who looked to be no more than twenty with dark skin and dark hair. Frodo thought that he had seen the boy at the council with the one dark-skinned woman that Lord Elrond had introduced as A’mar Haarhan of the Ravistavir tribe. Gandalf has told him that she was the representative of the Haradrim who came up from the South. Frodo had overheard the Gondorian man, Boromir, call them barbarians but Frodo was unsure as to why.

Deciding that there was enough space for two by the river, Frodo made his way down to the bank. “Hello,” Frodo said cheerfully, “mind if I sit here?”

The lad glanced up from the scroll he was painting, “I do not mind for there is plenty of space for you to sit Diira-Vesavur.”

“Diira-Vesavur?” Questioned Frodo as he sat beside the boy, “What does that mean if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Diira-Vesavur is the word we use for people who carry the Dark One’s ring.”

Frodo nodded along. While he wished that the phrase didn’t apply to him, it was his choice to volunteer to take the ring. He glanced over at the scroll the boy was painting. It was a replica of the council of Elrond. The scroll was long with multiple scenes showing Elrond’s opening speech, Gandalf speaking the black tongue of Mordor and much more. At the moment Frodo’s companion was working on finishing a picture of Frodo agreeing to take the ring. “These are beautiful.”

The boy’s cheeks lit up slightly, “Thank you. I am training to be the next historian of my tribe and was lucky enough that A’mar Haarhan invited me to come along to record the council of A’mar Elrond.”

“You’re not a painter then?”

“No,” the boy replied, “In our culture, we paint our histories onto scrolls. This is my first scroll of importance as it shows the beginning of the Dark One’s destruction.”

Frodo was puzzled, “How do you know that Sauron will be destroyed?”

“Our Neldradem, fortune teller, foretold it. She said that this meeting of people would bring about the end of the dark days.”

Frodo felt a weight lift off his chest slightly. While he wouldn’t put all his faith into what some women who supposedly could see the future told, it was comforting to know that people believed he would succeed in his quest.

“I don’t think I introduced myself. My name is Frodo Baggins, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I am Naqayd of the Ravistavir tribe. May Inhusomru and Sarvodhaal smile upon you Frodo Diira-Vesavur.”


End file.
